


this is how it starts

by gudetama (elementary)



Series: Prompt stuff [4]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Newt Scamander, Bottom Original Percival Graves, Crack, Exhibitionism, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Implied Switching, M/M, Misunderstandings, Playful Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sort Of, Teasing, Top Newt Scamander, Top Original Percival Graves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 17:44:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16100621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elementary/pseuds/gudetama
Summary: In which the fandom finally pulls me into writing smut





	1. view from up high

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: To give you a bit of a nudge in the NSFW direction - Percival’s office is high up in the building, right? He’s got floor to ceiling windows overlooking New York, can see Central Park. It’s evening, sun is setting but work is never done. Rather than a date Newt comes to keep him company. Newt ends up pinned against the window, sun setting beautifully while he gets thoroughly fucked/rimmed from behind by Percival. Could be a bit of an exhibition kink as it’s against the window but high up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for chapter: Bottom Newt, slight exhibitionism, fingering

In the darkening hours of the day, people walk and run and drive in a rush to go home. Lights turn on in the streets and off in stores to indicate closed business hours, only leaving on the ones that showcase products to the public.

It’s what he imagines and remembers in this moment, because Newt is one of those showcased products, a window display—trapped behind a wall that does nothing to hide the obscenity of his nudity and arousal. Except he isn’t open to the public, only to one privileged man.

“They can’t see, but they could,” Percival had told him earlier. “If they were flying across here at just the right altitude, they’d see you flushed, naked body almost as red as the setting sun—or would that be the sun itself?”

And Newt couldn’t reply how cheesy that line was because the man had then pinned his hips against the chilling, transparent barrier and swallowed him down whole, made him shout when he released down his throat.

Now he’s facing the outside and caged in by his lover, recovered from that first orgasm and arousal renewed already from expert ministrations to where Percival is preparing him to take something longer and thicker. His head drops and hangs weakly while his fingers scrabble against the glass with each movement from Percival’s. It’s no more than a couple of seconds, however, before a hand slides into his hair, tugs at the strands until he’s lifting it again.

“You’ll miss the sunset, sweetheart.”

If not for the utter breathlessness that plagues him currently, he would retort that he’s a bit too occupied at the moment to enjoy the view. He meets his own feverish eyes in a heavily flushed face, tries to look past the reflection into the sky where orange and red splash across the vastness and pink the clouds; tries to focus on anything other than the long line of still-clothed heat plastered against his naked back, exotic cologne filling his nose and the mouth at his neck, because he quivers from the assault of sensations that are not yet too much but keeping him balanced precariously on the line of  _so good_  and  _not enough_.

“Good,” Percival murmurs in his ear then tugs his lobe between perfect teeth, nibbles at it so that he shivers.

As good as it feels, it’s not where he wants that mouth and Newt brings one of his hands over his shoulder to tug at whatever he can reach of the man. Percival lets go of his ear and nuzzles at it before shifting closer at Newt’s silent demand. He hums curiously and with some effort and a bit of flexibility, Newt turns and meet eyes that are darker than usual with heat. There’s a brief pause between them, breaths calming a touch and Percival’s gaze roaming over the surely blotchy, sweaty skin of Newt’s face but softening all the same. He smiles something so unexpectedly tender that Newt’s heart tugs in a way that seems to enhance the sensitivity of his body to this man’s touch.

Blinking slow, Newt parts his mouth to ask for those prettily curved lips but Percival’s smile turns mischievous and all he gets is a lick across his own upper lip, then another swipe he can’t reach afterwards. His noise of frustration comes out as more of a whine and only then does Percival kiss him deep, sucking his tongue and sliding their mouths wetly together. The hand in his hair tickles its way down to grasp his nape then move down further and around to his chest, flicks a nipple and causes Newt to twitch. It isn’t the best of angles but Newt doesn’t think he can bear to pull back even as his neck twinges. He opens his mouth again and again to Percival, his tongue, his taste.

The fingers that had been still within him abruptly twist and Newt tears away to cry out and arch when pleasure streaks up his spine, has him leaning harder against glass that has long since warmed from his own body heat. And they don’t stop—they stroke along the insides and curl and press—until he’s dripping and smearing onto the window. The hand playing with his nipples moves down to take hold of his hip and prevent its aborted movement in seeking further stimulation while the other continues to stab deep and send sparks along every nerve.

The sky blurs.

It’s almost a relief when the touches withdraw but Newt is then exposed to the air, shaky knees and palms flat on the window barely preventing him from collapsing onto carpeted floor. The sound of a zipper is loud past the heavy panting and soon the hands are back, squeezing and molding the flesh of his bottom between them. He jolts when nails drag upwards along the curves.

“Ready, Newt?” Percival’s rough voice floats to him from behind, the man exercising unnecessary patience at this point.

“Inside,” Newt gasps desperately. “Inside, plea—”

And he chokes, breath caught on a whine at the single relentless stroke that stretches him suddenly, wonderfully, all the way until strong hips and thighs bump into him and support his buckling legs. It bends his back and curls his hands into helpless fists, has him hanging his head once more.

He doesn’t notice when the sun finally disappears and casts the room in shallow darkness, only the smile Percival kisses between his shoulders while he holds their hips tightly together, otherwise unmoving.

“Not enough light,” the man muses and strokes over Newt’s trembling stomach, then knuckles teasingly along his length. “Should we wait for the moon?”

For a minute, Newt’s desperation turns to incredulity and he shoots a glare at Percival, wonders in a fit of (sexual) frustration why he puts up with him. But then Percival grinds slowly into him and captures Newt’s surprised moan between his lips and soon has him forgetting even his own name.


	2. disheveled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "not to be That Guy but prickly unapproachable men, in suits, on the verge of collapse, totally and utterly disheveled"
> 
> Inspired by [this post](https://delicatecollapse.tumblr.com/post/173546070955/not-to-be-that-guy-but-prickly-unapproachable-men)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for chapter: Bottom Percival, fluff, frottage, barebacking

By the time Newt releases him, Percival is clutching at his arms, face fully flushed down to where his neck is bared from the unbuttoned collar of his shirt and marked in several places by redder spots. It adds to the white of his skin and dark of his thick brows as well as strands fallen out of a meticulous hair style and over deep brown eyes. His jacket hangs off the shoulders, sleeves bunched at the arms, tie loosened so that the knot sits at the centre of a heaving chest. The ends of a once pristine, white shirt are crumpled where they sit over the tops of Percival’s thighs, having been pulled out of their tucked form so Newt could slip his hands underneath and roam over smooth skin and soft planes of the man’s belly.

Newt leans in again, lips to the moles on Percival’s cheek, one hand sliding up a strong, fabric-covered thigh, the other teasing fingers at the waistband of black, silk pants exposed at the crotch where he unzipped the man’s trousers during earlier ministrations. The simultaneous actions have Percival shivering and gasping and knees buckling, sliding down the wall he’s currently pressed up against that much more. The grips on Newt’s arms tighten.

“Beautiful,” Newt murmurs against Percival’s swollen, glistening mouth before drawing away to brush their noses together. “I love seeing you come apart for me, little by little.”

As if to enforce his words, Newt releases the tie from its knot and slides it gently across the back of that pretty neck and lets it slither to the ground.

“Yes, well, I’d rather not have it happen on the floor if it’s all the same to you,” Percival manages breathlessly, hand going up to tangle in Newt’s hair. “I’m not so young anymore.”

Newt hums and brushes another kiss over soft lips, angles deeper and slips his tongue inside when they part as he slots his thigh between the man’s legs. He makes a pleased noise when he feels him automatically move into the contact, feels heat and hardness. Young enough, Newt thinks with amusement, and says as much after parting.

Percival tugs on his hair and nips at his mouth in retaliation, but doesn’t stop moving, and Newt presses more firmly against him. Then with a grip on Newt’s waist, he pulls and manoeuvres so that their cocks touch and a filthy sound and a hissed  _yes_  fills the small space between them.

Though desire burns strong through the both of them—Newt can see it in the liquid heat of Percival’s eyes and his own reflected in them—their movements are slow and leisurely in the way they grind against each other. Breaths stuttering in between noises muffled against each other’s lips and skin—especially when Percival shifts just so and fits them even better—they chase the growing pleasure together.

“Newt, I’m—” Percival whimpers, hands fisting into Newt’s shirt.

“I know, love,” Newt pants. “Almost, almost—”

Newt drinks the strangled cry from Percival’s mouth when the man releases in spurts, hot and wet, while he himself remains hard against Percival’s hip, hard-pressed to hold still. A bit more and he’d be reaching that peak as well, but he doesn’t want this to be over yet, has other plans in mind.

“A bit messy, are we,” Newt laughs low into the man’s ear before nipping at the shell of it.

There’s a quip from Percival about having just washed his clothes which breaks off in a sharp inhale. Holding his lover up, Newt teases the spent, sensitive cock over the wet silk covering it and feels the damp texture against his fingers.

“Newt,” Percival moans, twitching at the sensation.

A hand slips inside the pants, smears sticky fluid over the softening member. If not for Newt, Percival might have doubled over and moved away to avoid it, but with the wall behind him all he can do is curl into Newt’s chest and whine. He stops when his lover protests, oversensitive now, and winds his arms around him to hold him close as he peppers kisses along a damp, flushed neck.

After a moment during which Percival catches his breath, the man shifts, looks up at him with a furrowed brows. “You haven’t…”

Newt smiles, says, “I’d like to fuck you, if you’re up to it,” but he’s already half-dragging the man towards the bed.

And soon he has Percival stripped down and on his back on the bed, blinking up at him with dazed eyes.

“Hold still for me, love.”

Those eyes widen when Newt puts his mouth on Percival’s cock, licking and sucking it clean to a chorus of choked off noises and gasps. The body underneath him is quivering by the time he’s done, and Newt sits up between spread legs to continue exploring bared skin, dragging hands along the sides and brushing over peaked nipples, gripping and massaging strong thighs and a firm arse. He talks as he touches and kisses, remarking how he loves the softness hidden beneath all the layers Percival covers himself with, the plush bottom that fills Newt’s hands, the perfect pink of his nipples and how they stand out against his pale chest.

Percival doesn’t say anything, only responds instinctively to each careful ministration because he already recognized that Newt is in one of those moods, wanting to take his time, deliberate in actions and words to show his love and appreciation. In no time, Percival melts into the sheets, face slack and loose-limbed and Newt is so hard in the confines of his trousers it hurts.

“I love that it’s easy to mark you,” Newt says a bit roughly before nipping at the sharp, clean-shaven jaw of his lover.

Even thoroughly red from being flustered by this, Percival rolls his eyes. “One might think you’re trying to give me matching freckles.”

“I wouldn’t mind trying,” Newt huffs a laugh and kisses him, then leans back to rub a thumb over lips as red as the marks left on this gorgeous body. “Do you think I’ll succeed?”

“How about no—” Percival stops, seems to think about his next words. “Not today.”

Newt gives him a look. “I’ll take that as permission for next time, then.”

And while Percival watches, he then sits up and back, removing his clothes. A smile tugs at his lips at the renewed heat in that gaze, the way Percival gets up as well and basically  _prowls_  towards him. Warm hands slide over Newt’s naked shoulders as his lover climbs into his lap and a warmer mouth presses kisses to them. It has Newt sighing in content, tilting his head as the mouth moves up his neck. A hand on Newt’s finally freed cock makes him gasp and twitch his hips up into the gentle grip.

“Poor you,” Percival purrs in jest. “Holding back for so long.”

And Newt’s torn between laughing and moaning because  _Merlin_  the touch feels good, so good, but his lover keeps making funny sympathetic noises while uttering filthy words. Newt’s own hand joins Percival’s in the languid stroking, the other groping around the man and digging into his arse.

“You aren’t the only one holding back, sweetheart,” Percival says, low and smooth. “You’ll be fucking me with this soon, won’t you.”

“Ye-yes,” Newt pants, eyes clenching shut. “Not if—if you keep doing that, however.”

He reaches further, fingers parting soft cheeks and sliding down the cleft to furled muscle. Brushing over it firmly earns him a pleased hum and a slight push into the touch. When he presses harder, Percival breathes his name and releases him to hold on for support. It’s unbelievably heady to have those pretty eyes dark with arousal boring into his, and Newt surges up to kiss the man. It’s wet and messy, and they groan into each other’s mouths as teeth bite and tongues tangle, joining over and over again until they need to breathe.

As they part, something knocks into his arm and falls onto the bed. Newt blinks down confusedly at it for a moment then grins, and hears Percival muttering ‘hurry up’ into his hair. An absent thought flits across his mind at how convenient magic can be sometimes as he picks up the container.

“Am I doing all the work, then?” Newt laughs, twisting the cap open and scooping up the cold substance.

“You started it, so finish it,” Percival replies dryly with a raised brow.

To be honest, he could do this all day—pushing deep into his lover, feeling him writhe on his lap as the man clings to him like his hole does Newt’s fingers, body tensing and loosening in turns from stimulation. Every twist and stroke elicits beautiful noises from a beautiful throat that Newt sets his teeth against to leave another mark. Percival’s cock is fully back to hardness, twitching and leaking over them both and rubbing gently against Newt’s.

“Newt, that’s enough,” Percival pleads, breath hitching at another deep stab.

“Alright, lift up, darling,” Newt says as he removes his fingers, and wipes them quickly on the sheets before helping the man position himself.

When Percival sinks down with a drawn-out groan, familiar heat and slick and tightness sends a shiver up Newt’s spine. It happens too slow yet too fast, covering him inch agonizing inch until Percival’s weight settles fully on him. And then, completely sheathed inside his lover, Newt trembles and breathes hard, holds onto him like he’s his anchor from this barrage of sensations. A few deep breaths—Percival doing the same—and then it’s no longer so dizzying. A little shift has a jolt of pleasure shooting from his groin to the rest of him.

“Oh, Merlin, this won’t last,” Newt blurts out, gripping Percival tighter.

Percival lifts his head from where it was hanging as he adjusted to the fullness stretching him, and glares rather ferociously for one so pink with arousal.

“Don’t you dare,” Percival growls, and in the next moment with hands firmly on Newt’s shoulders, he  _moves_.

It’s mesmerizing to watch—muscles shifting, the light sheen of perspiration over his skin, that handsome face contorted with pleasure—and even more so to feel such hot pressure sliding up and down rhythmically over his cock. It burns him inside and out, assaulting him in the best of ways and he pushes, shoves into that heat while trying to savour it. Percival meets his thrusts eagerly and leans into the hands that sweep over his body, back arching.

“Beautiful,” Newt murmurs before closing his mouth over a hard nipple and moans when Percival tightens on him.

A hand in his hair tugs him up for a kiss that leaves him breathless.

“You feel so good, love,” Newt says hoarsely.

Percival kisses him again, and Newt’s hips stutter when he clenches down deliberately this time.

With a smile, the man says, “So do you, but you can go harder.”

Just as well, Newt thinks as he tucks Percival close and suddenly pushes up hard, surprising the man when he tumbles him over to lie back on the bed without pulling out. He  _really_  won’t be lasting much longer. There is much more freedom in this position with him leaning over his lover, and he thrusts harder, quicker. The cries Percival was holding back earlier burst out in moans and shouts, particularly loudly when Newt brushes over that sensitive spot within.

“Newt, Newt,” Percival pants, blinking wet eyes up at him. “ _Fuck_.”

His hands scramble for purchase and Newt leans in further, bending him at the waist to take them in his own and press them into the mattress. As Percival’s fingers grip his, so does his warmth, almost unbearably so.

“I’m here,” Newt tells him and licks across parted lips.

The heat pooled in his gut builds and builds with each movement, with each ragged cry that they can’t suppress. He chases it relentlessly, slamming in furiously now and hitting the spot that makes Percival choke and whine and drags the man up to the peak with him.

“I’m close, I need to—” Percival moans. “I need—”

“Yes, yes,” Newt says as he lets go of one hand and wraps it around Percival’s cock. “Go on, love. Come for me.”

With a near-scream Percival does, spilling over Newt’s hand and clenching around him so hard that it nearly blinds Newt with shocking pleasure; he’s helpless to follow, crying out into Percival’s neck in release. Waves of his orgasm toss him over again and again as his hips slow in thrusts and push weakly into the mess he made of them both. After a moment to catch his breath, Newt reluctantly pulls out and falls next to the body still twitching with aftershocks.

“Fuck,” he hears from above and feels a kiss on the back of his hand still joined with Percival’s. “That was very good.”

With some effort, Newt lifts his head and pauses. The look directed his way is something unspeakably soft, and his heart that was slowing picks up again for a different reason.

“Come here, Newt,” Percival says gently.

It’s even more effort now that he’s feeling tired from their activity, but Newt happily tucks himself into open arms, tosses his own around the man’s waist and kisses him. There’s a familiar tingle of magic and then he no longer feels the messy evidence of their lovemaking on his skin. Sure enough, they’re both clean when he looks down. Then without thinking, curious, he slips his hand down and pokes fingers between Percival’s cheeks. It’s clean there, too, he notes with a little disappointment.

“ _Newt_.”

“Oh, yes,” Newt grins sheepishly and removes his hand. “Sorry.”

Percival narrows his eyes, unimpressed. “Go to sleep.”

But it’s a few more minutes until that happens, Newt spending some moments brushing back Percival’s hair that fell out of place and kissing all over his face. Percival leans into them with pleased sighs even as they both blink sleepily at each other.

“Go to sleep,” Percival says again, soft and low.

And with one last kiss, chaste and sweet, Newt finally does surrounded by a different kind of warmth.


	3. taller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this post](http://skiplo-wave.tumblr.com/post/177313496621/percival-when-i-was-your-age-newt) where Newt teases about Percival's height and then Percival thinks to retaliate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for the chapter: Bottom Newt, teasing, crack, implied switching

“I know what you’re thinking,” Newt rasps out.

Percival hums absently in response as he continues to thrust into the tight warmth of his lover. His hand skims over the swell of Newt’s ass that bounces with each smack of his own hips and into the dip at the base of the spine before admiring the long length of his pale, freckled back.

“Do tell,” Percival says belatedly, pushing back loose strands from his face then returning to patting at smooth skin.  _Fuck, that feels good_ , he thinks, easily losing himself in the rhythm of fucking.

“You—ah! Oh, right there, please—you feel, mm, bigger like this,” Newt says in between moans and gasps.

_Bigger, yes, bigger. He must be truly feeling it; small wonder with how much Newt is squeezing him—_

“No, I mean—I mean, you feel  _taller_.”

“Yes, taller—wait,” Percival mutters, confused, unconsciously slowing down.

Newt apparently doesn’t like that, makes an unhappy noise as he nudges backwards to take more of Percival into himself. There’s a frown on his flushed face when he looks over the shoulder at him, damp curls sticking to the sides and forehead. Instinctively, Percival reaches over and brushes them away, and gets a kiss to his fingers for it.

“Because, mm, we don’t usually do it this way,” Newt continues.

 _This way_ , meaning the man folded over onto a surface—in this case, a desk in one of the unused meeting rooms of the building—and Percival behind him, over him, pinning him down. The reason being it’s rather difficult and messy, having to find the right height and stability for both of them so that Percival isn’t putting too much of his back into it and Newt isn’t awkwardly bending his legs.

“Because I teased you earlier.”

Percival stops altogether.

It’s a brief but intense battle between offended (that Newt dares imply he’s petty enough to act like this from a comment about his height), embarrassed (to have been caught thinking exactly that), and flattered (because Newt observes and knows him so well). Before he can come to a conclusion, however, he’s suddenly being pushed back, pushed  _out_ , and manoeuvered onto a nearby seat. A shadow looms over him and then Newt’s weight is on his lap, his cock sliding into wet heat once more.

They both groan. Newt’s eyes when they meet his are glazed over yet there is something sharp and mischievous in them.

Sure enough, as he starts moving himself, he says, “Positions are too relative to be accurate. See, now I’m taller in every possible way.”

If they weren’t so preoccupied with the renewed pleasure between them, Percival would have quite a different response to that other than knocking his head into Newt’s chest and panting against it. He kisses, mouths whatever part he can reach, fingers reaching for hard, peaked nipples. Newt says no more, arms winding around Percival’s shoulders and whimpering against the side of his head. It’s not much longer for either of them because Newt slams down his hips desperately and Percival isn’t better with his thrusts, wrapping one of his hands around Newt’s cock at one point and smearing the gathered fluid over it. His other hand tangles into Newt’s hair, tugs his head back to bite at the exposed throat.

They come together like that, wound so tightly around each other it’s difficult to tell where one starts and the other ends. Percival thinks he hears the chair creaking but the roar of blood in his ears from his orgasm drowns it out. When it fades, it’s just hard breathing between them, then soft, wet sounds of shared kisses. There’s a slightly uncomfortable feeling of too much where they’re still joined, their mixed release dripping in between, but Percival likes holding Newt close like this. Newt doesn’t seem to mind it either.

Still, he remembers the exchange they just had and draws back.

“You are a great pain in my ass, Scamander,” Percival says, frowning.

“Not yet, but I will be soon,” Newt says without missing a beat. “Less pain, though. Give me a few more minutes.”

After shooting him an incredulous look, Percival shakes his head and sighs.


	4. what is topping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: a misunderstanding with your OTP/OT3
> 
> This is based on myself when reading tags like 'topping from the bottom' and I've encountered both in terms of position relative to the horizontal surface as well as who does the penetrating so

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Bottom Percival, fingering, misunderstanding

It was inevitable, Percival thinks in retrospect. There was attraction, chemistry, and intrigue ever since their first meeting, a tension that grew with each push and pull through challenging one another intellectually, emotionally, and learning to give to accommodate the other.

And then finally, they both gave in.

Hence the current stumbling through Percival's apartment tangled up with each other, removing clothes along the way and falling into bed with laughter and anticipation.

Every sigh and soft noise that fall from Newt’s lips arouses Percival that much more. The beautiful stretch of the man's pale, freckled skin quiver under his fingers.

“I’ll be on top?” he asks, a hand roaming downwards and giving Newt's firm ass a squeeze.

The way Newt looks up at him gives him pause—like he’s stunned in a good way—and Percival follows up with whether Newt's okay with that. Then the man is shaking his head eagerly, his auburn curls bouncing and reminding Percival of a pup.

“And you’ll be fine as well?” Newt asks, pushing up on his elbows, sitting up, and forcing Percival to shift back onto Newt’s lap. “Not complaining of course, your enthusiasm is wonderful.”

Hands sweep down Percival's bare sides, a hot mouth attaching to his neck and dispersing the concentration required to process those words.  _Was Newt not expecting to go all the way?_  In this position he can feel their arousals barely brush against each other and his hips twitch unconsciously. The mouth is now at the base of his throat then licking down to his nipples.

“Newt,” Percival gasps, and then he drags the man up to kiss him.

The heat begins to consume him, spreading from the inside as he licks into Newt’s mouth and grinds languidly against him. Newt whimpers and grips harder at his waist, bucking up to meet him. It's good, consistent bursts of pleasure that has Percival in no hurry to finish, getting lost in the rhythm of this dance. And so, it takes him a while to notice that one of those large hands holding him had moved to the back, catching him by surprise when something cool and slick presses against his exposed hole.

Percival tears himself away from Newt's mouth in shock, and the man blinks up wide.

“Ah, too cold still?” he says, brows furrowing apologetically. “Sorry.”

Immediately the pressure is warmer against sensitive nerves and Percival can’t help jerking, gasping.

“Wait,” he tries, confused by thoughts and sensations. “I thought—”

“Hm?” Newt hums, and the finger at his hole is circling around and around like it’s massaging there loose.

“I thought I’m— _oh_ —I’m. On top?”

“You are,” Newt confirms with a shy ( _how is it shy_ ) smile and something isn’t right about that—

Oh Merlin, a firmer press and then Newt’s  _inside_ , inside, down there, and also inside Percival's mouth with his tongue, muffling reactive noises. The finger reaches deep and slides in and out and Percival can hardly wrap his mind around the situation before there’s a second, encouraging words murmured into his ear about how beautiful he looks, sitting over Newt and wrapped around his shoulders, his fingers—

“Are you alright?” Newt asks as he moves and strokes within, kissing the side of Percival's hot face and brushing back his loosened hair. “I’m going to add a third.”

At this point, Percival recognizes he has a choice to make: either tell Newt that they have very different understandings of what  _being on top_ means or continue this way. The thing is, Newt is obviously very skilled— _oh, he twisted his finger just right_ —and Percival's body obviously accepts desiring the man in whatever possible manner. Also, he’s certain that this first time won’t be the last.

Percival draws back a little and looks down into dark hazel eyes regarding him with that same desire, and decides.

 “Do it.”


End file.
